Eyes to Eternity


At age 35 I found someone who was more afraid of closeness than I was.  I understood him almost from day one.  This understanding came out of years of therapy that followed my breakdown at age 28.  Before the breakdown, I didn’t know that I was depressed.  Before the breakdown, I didn’t know that my failed relationships were due to my fear of closeness.  Before the breakdown, I didn’t know I was Bipolar.  I learned a lot of things in therapy that helped to change the direction of my life.

And then one day Thomas walked into the library where I had been working for 10 years.  He got a job as a library assistant.  He was a graduate student and wanted to work part-time.  I took the first steps towards asking him out because it was obvious he never would.  I had learned a thing or two after a stint at being gay.  We bumbled our way into a relationship and, after 4 years, into marriage.  We didn’t know that either one of us had Asperger’s Syndrome, a neurodevelopmental disorder on the Autism Spectrum, until much, much later.  We just thought we were very, very shy.

After some 23 years of marriage we are still shy with each other.  Our instincts are still to run away from closeness, but now we are able to override the first gut feeling.  We have grown together, becoming very, very close.  So close that now my biggest fear is of losing Thomas.  So close that sometimes we communicate without talking, as if we are on the same radio frequency.  In fact talking often confuses things.

We have pushed each other along life’s path.  Tom became a clinical social worker and I became a writer and artist.  The road has been bumpy in spots.  My being Bipolar has been hard for Tom at times.  Many times.  But there have been many more moments of joy that make it all worthwhile.  We both feel the other is the best thing that happened to us, and the journey continues.  New lessons are learned.   There are still new magical moments and new epiphanies.

It is 3A.M.   I lay beside Thomas in bed listening to his breathing as I watch a silent light show outside our bedroom windows.  This is not a 3A.M. awakening born of despair as some are.  At the moment I feel the Presence and that Presence fills me with love.

The moonlight beckons to me, and I respond by getting up and gazing at the twinkling stars and the hushed light of flickering fireflies. In the quiet stillness of a country night I am stirred by the music of the silence.  My ears hum, the sound of the nervous system according to my husband.

The cool air is intoxicating.  I go to the den to write and sit in a moonlit cathedral, watching the seemingly random flashing flames of fireflies flying in a frenzy of love.  The madness of desire.  Well do I know how love possesses one’s spirit and makes one fly through life, manic with emotion.

Yet sometimes, beneath the energy that stirs one’s blood, lies a silent union—a momentary glimpse of eternity in a loved-locked gaze into the eyes of one’s beloved.  It is fleeting, at least for me.  Gone in a flash, and yet it leaves me wondering just whom I am seeing.   The inner voice says that God has touched my soul through Thomas, for the best of  human love is merely a sampling of the Divine.  Eye contact, so problematic for both my husband and me, is wondrous in this context.  For a second, eternity beckons like the moonlight, whispering of another life, another world, something beyond the here and now.

(Click  for information on, and to purchase my Bipolar/Asperger’s memoir.)

21 responses

  1. So beautiful, Ellen!!


    August 6, 2013 at 2:54 PM

    • How very nice to hear from you, Kathy, and so grateful for your comment. Hope you are doing well? Or better?


      August 6, 2013 at 6:02 PM

  2. Great and wonderful post.


    August 6, 2013 at 3:06 PM

  3. Wow, I can’t even come up with words to express my feelings. It’s so perfect; quietly reverent. And I think I’ve said before that I’m a tad envious. God bless you and Thomas both, together.


    August 6, 2013 at 4:26 PM

    • Thank you, Bennetta, as always. I am sorry you are envious. But I don’t think you would be envious if you read the story of how I got to this point, narrowly escaping being fired, committed, suicide and generally, in my own hell. I am on many psych meds even now and will always have to be in order to function. I wouldn’t wish what I went through on anyone. For now things are good but it took me a lifetime to get here. And I know how bad things can turn. So I try to be thankful for everyday of love and grace.


      August 6, 2013 at 4:54 PM

      • I have all those things in my history, too, Ellen. And I don’t generally suffer loneliness, was proud of my independence, my choice to be alone. But things are different now that I’m over 60 and without adequate resources; so my mild envy has to do with knowing I’ll always be alone, and will have to make adjustments without support. It’s not a bitter envy–I’m very happy for you.


        August 6, 2013 at 7:30 PM

      • You don’t know the twists and turns of life. You may find someone– people do– I know some who did at age 70– and I may wind up alone.


        August 6, 2013 at 8:46 PM

      • “Twists and turns”, I kind of like that–it’s true, but I’m not hanging my heart on any such hope.


        August 7, 2013 at 1:00 AM

  4. my God, Ellen, it takes my breath away – tearfully tender


    August 6, 2013 at 7:58 PM

  5. This is a beautiful….


    August 7, 2013 at 9:51 AM

  6. Ellen, in this superficial world your posts always touch and move me. As I told you before, we have a lot in common. I would be a bit afraid to open myself like you. I hope you still have many years together with your soulmate. I’m still looking for one. Kind regards Mitza


    August 7, 2013 at 11:46 AM

    • Hi Mitza, Thank you so much for appreciating my posts and for telling me that they move you. That makes it all worth it. Sometimes I wonder just what I am doing. You have said we have lots in common though not what. We both like macro. But I think it is more than that. I would not have opened up as much as I have if I didn’t have my soulmate to encourage me to do so (he is a clinical social worker). I do hope you find yours. I suspect you are much younger than I am. I had to wait a long time to find mine after many disasters. Thank you so much for your good wishes. They mean so much to me. I send mine to you! Warmest regards, Ellen


      August 7, 2013 at 3:32 PM

      • Hi Ellen, I am about your age, 61, and I’m not so sure that I will find somebody. It’s hard to be different and to be understood by somebody who’s “normal”. It took me many years to find out what’s my problem, and it is about the same problem you have. If you ever feel to write some more, use the e-mail-address stated in my about. Warmest regards, Mitza


        August 8, 2013 at 5:24 AM

  7. This is true love!
    Wonderfully written.


    September 5, 2013 at 2:26 PM

  8. This was SO EXTREMELY beautiful, thank you for directing me here!!

    I have just spent my day reading a book from cover to cover (I have never read a book in a day before). As soon as I finished the book I thought of you, you may have already read it but if you have no… please please please go out and get a copy immediately!!

    ‘Many Lives, Many Masters’ by Dr Brian Weiss

    Lots and lots of love to you and your husband xxx


    January 23, 2014 at 7:35 AM

    • Thank you so much for reading “Eyes to Eternity,” and I am SO glad you liked it! I looked up the book, which I have not yet read, by Dr. Weiss and am firing up my Kindle right now so I can get it. Thanks for telling me about it!! Also am going to get some coconut oil for my hair. Your hair is already so long and beautiful– just like a right Indian woman’s. Much love to you and YOUR husband, Ellen xxx


      January 23, 2014 at 10:35 AM

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